


the western front

by bluebeholder



Series: the accidental epic [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Fire-forged Friends, Foreshadowing, Gen, Sad Ending, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: In 1918, young Jacob Kowalski is a part of the American Expeditionary Force in the Great War. During the Battle of Cantigny, he meets Theseus Scamander in a hail of shellfire.In short order, Jacob accidentally discovers that the magic he thought stayed on the pages of novels is very, very real.





	the western front

**Author's Note:**

> Three stories in two days? Look at me go!!!
> 
> This is one I've wanted to write for a long while now. A prequel for Jacob--with a bonus character! Here's hoping y'all enjoy. :3

The firing of the shells is a dull, unending hammering, constantly in the background. Jacob’s used to it: he’s been hearing it since November, when he got to France at last. It’s almost strange when it stops. But it won’t stop, not today. Today the 28th Infantry Regiment launches its attack on the village of Cantigny. It sits on high ground and the Germans have been using it as an artillery spotting post.

Last night the Germans had launched raids, but even unready they’d managed to come out on top. Artillery’s been firing on the village since before dawn, and it’s almost six-thirty. They’re expected to move soon, ready or not. Jacob just settles his helmet on his head more firmly, grips his rifle tightly, and hopes his bayonet is attached firmly enough. His gas mask is heavy, but hell if it hasn’t saved his life before already. At least he isn’t one of the people carrying a flamethrower.  

“Mind if I join you?”

Jacob looks up from his rifle to see a tall man, a Brit by his accent, standing close by. He’s in the usual Brit uniform, handsome and smiling politely despite the hollow look in his eyes and the exhaustion evident in his posture. It’s easy to forget sometimes that they’ve been fighting for four years already. This guy’s been on the front lines since ’14. “Sure,” Jacob says, scooting over where he sits on the bench to make some space. “Name’s Jacob. Jacob Kowalski.”

“A pleasure, even if we’re stuck in a fucking trench,” the man says as he sits down. He offers his hand. “Theseus Scamander.”

“What’s a Brit doing with the First?” Jacob asks. “Thought you were off fighting other places.”

“You Yanks need all the help you can get,” Theseus says. He shrugs. “I’m a bit of a specialist, might be able to lend a hand.”

Jacob looks him over again. “Well, glad to have the extra help.”

At 6:40, the French tanks roll out ahead of the American soldiers. Planes roar overhead, providing air cover. The fighting in a lot of ways is a blur: Jacob doesn’t remember it, later. It happens shockingly fast, stunningly easy. The flamethrower crews clear German holdouts efficiently, and in a matter of hours the whole village is clear. For just a moment, things seem like they’re going to be all right.

“We going to get reinforcements?” Jacob asks, when Theseus wanders up to him several hours after they’ve dug in. It looks like it will be a long night, and there are mutterings all over that they’re in a lot more trouble than they expected.

Theseus looks grim. “The cavalry’s not coming,” he says. “And I hear that Pershing ordered us to dig in until they can get reinforcements to us.”

“Well, damn,” Jacob says, shaking his head.

“Make the best of a bad job, I suppose,” Theseus says. He musters up a grimy smile. “Least we’re all among friends here, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Jacob says. He claps Theseus on the shoulder. “And hey—maybe we’ll get lucky, right?”

They don’t get lucky.

It takes three days for reinforcements to reach them.

On that first day, it’s almost not so bad. The shell fire isn’t any worse, though it seems closer, up until the Germans launch their first counterattack. Jacob’s ears are left ringing. He notices that, no matter where he goes, Theseus goes; it’s a little bit odd, but Jacob won’t question having a good friend at his back. Even if that friend isn’t so good at firing a rifle.

By what Jacob remembers as the second day they’ve suffered more counterattacks, far too many, and men are dying. The shelling is getting to everyone, and it seems that there’s never a safe moment to be had. Jacob feels like he can barely breathe, in all this, but things continue to get worse. The shelling never stops. The attacks don’t end. More men die.

It’s after the fifth German counterattack, while they scrape out the ends of a miserable can of bully beef together, that Jacob finally gives voice to his discontent. “Times like these, I wish I could wave a wand and end all this,” Jacob says grimly.

Theseus gives him an odd look, but shrugs. “If wishes were horses,” he says.

“Yeah,” Jacob says. He drops the can and kicks it away over the muddy ground. “Yeah.”

The night wears on lit by the constant strobe-light of exploding shells. The sound is just a dull pounding, but it’s exhausting. And the morning breaks on the third day of their hold on the village, and still there are no reinforcements. Jacob’s beginning to believe he’ll die here, in Cantigny, forgotten in the mud like everyone else.

He’s sitting in the shell of a ruined house, Theseus beside him and other men around them. None Jacob recognizes; he’s lost track of all his friends in this mess.

Jacob leans back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. It’s a respite—or it should have been. He feels drunk with fatigue and this is why he misses the hooting sound of gas-shells falling.

“Gas! _Gas_!” someone shouts, and by the time Jacob opens his eyes the greenish clouds are already filling the air.

They’re all fumbling for masks, every soldier, but they’ll never get them on in time—

—he’s choking—tears streaming down his cheeks—

—they’ll drown in gas, oh, God, Jacob isn’t ready for this—

“Bullio Fastigium!” Theseus says clearly. “Multiplico!”

And suddenly Jacob can breathe.

He stops in wonder as he looks around and realizes that there’s a translucent bubble around his head, sealing him off from the gas. He can breathe perfectly well, though the gas is all around, and every other soldier he can see has a similar thing. They’re all staring around in terror and awe.

That’s when Jacob notices that Theseus, a bubble around his head too, is holding a wand.

“What…” he starts, and shakes his head. “I’m dreaming.”

“It was funny when you said that—that you wished you had a wand,” Theseus says, in a remarkably steady voice. “Bubble Head Charm. Really useful, and I’m glad my little brother taught me how to multiply it, normally it can only be cast on one person at a time.”

“You’re a wizard,” Jacob says, after a long moment.

The gas begins to dissipate as he and Theseus sit side by side in silence.

“I’m a wizard,” Theseus confirms grimly.

Jacob starts to laugh. He’s not sure when they become sobs, but he’s barely audible over the shellfire anyway. He covers his face with his hands, to stop anyone from seeing. Though, in all of this mess, who even cares?

Finally he subsides into silence. He can only stare around. The other men are staring at Theseus too, drawn and pale and frightened.

Theseus stares at the ground between his boots. “I’m sorry,” he says dully.

“How many wizards are here?” Jacob asks.

“Only me,” Theseus says. “And I’m not supposed to be here, you see, we aren’t supposed to fight in the war. I…wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t supposed to save us,” one of the other soldiers says. He swallows hard, stands, and walks over to stick out his hand. “I don’t know what the fuck you are or where the fuck you came from or how the _fuck_ you can do magic, but I owe you.”

Visibly startled, Theseus shakes the man’s hand. And then it’s shaking all around—back-thumping happy gratitude that makes Jacob’s heart feel a little lighter.

Of course it doesn’t last. Happiness never does. But Jacob feels a little better about Theseus, after that, and when the man pulls out his wand during the next German counterattack and lays out a dozen soldiers with one thunderous spell, Jacob decides that he really wants to be a wizard.

Theseus goes with them, when reinforcements finally arrive, sticking by Jacob’s side as the exhausted soldiers straggle back behind friendly lines. Rumor says over a thousand dead; Jacob wonders if it has to be more. Are they counting the Germans, too?

When they’re back behind lines, there’s real food waiting for them, the chance to take off wet boots at last, to indulge in shaving and sitting and not having to hear shellfire quite as loud. Jacob sits with Theseus, and while they have the chance, they talk.

“What’s a wizard doing out here?” Jacob asks.

Theseus shakes his head. “I volunteered to come. A trial force of sorts, sort of…I don’t know, a mission to oversee things. To understand if wizards should get involved.”

Jacob can feel how wide his eyes are. “Are you?”

“No,” Theseus says shortly. “I’ll probably be recalled to England, after this. I doubt I’ll be in too much trouble, saving thirty men and defending Muggles—what we call people without magic, like you—tends to get you recognized, even if you’re not allowed outside anymore.”

“Oh,” Jacob says. He takes a bite of whatever tasteless-but-hot thing is on his plate and considers it. “Well, thanks for saving us.”

“I couldn’t let more men die,” Theseus says.

There’s a moment of dead silence.

“You mentioned your brother’s fighting too,” Jacob says.

Theseus smiles. “Newt. Off on the Eastern Front, training dragons…”

“Dragons!”

“Ukranian Ironbellies,” Theseus says. He looks incredibly proud. “They say Newt’s the only one brave enough and smart enough to handle them. Wish I could see him…but the Ministry’s recalling that force, too. We’re not to get involved anymore.”

“What’ll you do back in England?”

“I don’t know,” Theseus admits. The lines around his eyes look so deep, made deeper by the smears of dirt on his skin. “I haven’t thought that far ahead…what about you, when you go home?”

Jacob leans back, setting his empty plate aside, and smiles up at the blue sky. “I’m going to start a bakery,” he says. “A nice place. I live in New York, see, and everyone there’s always looking for something sweet, you know? My grandmother has all these recipes she passed down for all kinds of good stuff. I always wanted to have a place of my own, make her things, figure out some of my own.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Theseus says wistfully.

“Yeah,” Jacob says. “It’ll be good.”

There’s a speck overhead and Jacob squints at it. The speck descends, circling, circling, circling, until it becomes an owl that lands beside Theseus. It holds out its leg and Theseus takes a message tied to it, scratches the bird’s head, and the owl flies off.

“Ah,” Theseus says, looking up from the message. “They want me back already. I’m to go straight back after…”

“After what?” Jacob asks, sitting up straight.

Theseus sighs and looks Jacob in the face. “I have to erase your memories of me,” he says.

“…what?”

“There’s this thing—the Statute of Secrecy—we can’t be known to Muggles,” Theseus says. He looks like he’s about to cry, that stiff upper lip he’s been sporting the whole time Jacob’s known him vanishing. “And I have to uphold that Statute, it’s what I do, I’m an _Auror_ for Merlin’s sake and I’ve got to Obliviate you to protect it.”

Jacob stares at Theseus, then at the ground for a long moment. “I guess if you have to,” he says slowly. “Will it hurt?”

“No, no,” Theseus says. “It’s like falling asleep, you’ll open your eyes and really think that I was never there at all. I might as well never have been.”

“Except I’ll be alive,” Jacob says wryly. “And hey, at least I knew there was magic. Dragons. All that, you know. I might never see it again, but I think…I’ll still know.”

Theseus gives him a long, long look. He draws his wand out of his coat. “It was good to know you, Jacob,” he says. “You’re a good man.”

“Ain’t too bad yourself,” Jacob says. He summons up a smile. “If you’re ever in New York, look me up and come visit the bakery.”

“I will,” Theseus says, resting the wand’s tip on Jacob’s forehead. He pauses for a moment, as if steeling himself. “ _Obliviate_ …”

...

...

...

There’s a man walking away from him when Jacob opens his eyes, someone tall who Jacob doesn’t recognize. Not a surprise, not after that battle. He’s lucky he remembers his own name, all that time in the shellfire. But at least they’re out alive, and he has a little time before he’s back in the trenches.

Funny, Jacob muses as he makes for his bunk, surviving that gas attack was almost like magic.

**Author's Note:**

> I went through some *major* bullshit to figure out where Jacob was in the army. MAJOR. 
> 
> Here it is: Jacob entered the European theatre in the 1st Division, which in November 1918 became part of the IV Corps of the Third Army, and saw his first action as a Doughboy in late 1917 in small-scale actions on the part of the American Expeditionary Force. The 1st Division led the first victorious American offensive action at the Battle of Cantigny, as roughly described in this fic. A part of the Third Army, which included 1st Division troops and therefore possibly Jacob, would remain in occupation of Rhineland until late 1919; at that time, troop drawdown would continue to reduce this number until the last men left the occupation on January 24, 1923. 
> 
> Getting to this short version was hours of absolute screaming hell on earth and _I’m not done screaming yet_ but that isn’t the point of the fic.
> 
> Reference documents were many. The 1st Infantry Division itself provides us a history (http://www.eur.army.mil/organization/history.htm); it’s a good summation of exactly what the Division was up to. The best source by far was “United States Army in the World War 1917-1919, Volume 11: American Occupation of Germany”, which has a plethora of details on the exact specifications of how the Third Army was formed, which parts helped form it, who led it, and what it did. 
> 
> The reason that this took so goddamn long, when the information I needed was SO DAMN OBVIOUS TWO DOCUMENTS COULD HAVE SAVED ME?
> 
> Wikipedia.
> 
> None of the Wikipedia articles had what I needed or gave me a constructive place to improve my search and acquire what I needed.
> 
> See, there’s a problem with Google. The first search results it pulls are, yes, relevant, but also the most popular. It’s why searching for images mostly hauls you straight to Pinterest. There’s plenty to see on the Internet, but the popular websites essentially clog what could make things easy. For your reference, the best way to do this is “search query -wikipedia” or “search query -pinterest” or -whatever site you’re trying to avoid. If I’d done that from the get-go, this wouldn’t have taken so long.
> 
> And, at the end of the day, I still have no fucking clue why Jacob was there until 1924. If anyone has any thoughts, shout ’em out below. 
> 
> Self-promo: if you want to read more Wizards In World War I, and you’re looking for more of my take on Theseus, check out “Shell Shock”, a Theseus/Percival fic that takes place on the Western Front at the First Battle of Passchendaele.


End file.
